


Cloth Barricade

by Bound_in_reason



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Frottage, M/M, hostage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-28 23:16:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bound_in_reason/pseuds/Bound_in_reason
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Held in place by fear for his friend, John submits to Moriarty's games.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I own none of these characters, or anything regarding Sherlock Holmes in general. 
> 
> This is probably only a one-shot but could be expanded on in the future.
> 
> Totally unbetaed. Any help welcome.

"Honey, I'm home!" Jim flung himself through the door with a little twirl, while he removed the blue scarf from around his neck. Closing the door quickly, he hung the scarf over the handle. Jim grinned at John, sitting across the lounge, on the opulent white leather sofa. Not stopping for a moment or braking eye contact, Jim shrugged off his coat, which dropped to the floor, and swooped across the room. He sprang onto the sofa and into John's lap.

"Oh Sweetie, I missed you." The dark haired man crooned, wriggling happily. He stroked a finger along John's jaw and settled his fingers at Johns chin, holding it gently. "Did you miss me?" John remained quite still, and continued to look into the consulting criminals deep brown eyes. "I had a busy day Dearest. Should I tell you all about it?" 

Moriarty draped his arms around John's shoulders and settled further into the mans lap. Burying his face into John's neck, Jim breathed him in. Jim hummed thoughtfully as no response came.

"Perhaps you would rather snuggle instead." John tensed slightly at this, but remained stoic. He breathed deeply, letting his breath out slowly then, finally, brought his arms up to encircle Jim's waist. The Consultant smirked into the blonds neck; the light touch of his lips and breath tickling John slightly. 

"Oh good! I was concerned for a moment there that you might not be in the mood, and we wouldn't want me thinking you weren't interested would we?" Jim ground down a little into John's lap and sucked on the mans neck gently. 

"Mmm Jonny, you taste so good. I was distracted all day thinking about this. Touching and tasting you. It's quite magnificent. Can you feel the effect it's having on me?"

Jim firmly pressed his crouch into John's belly and hummed into his neck. He stroked his spread fingers down John's torso to his hips. Then slowly moved them up, under the fabric of the shirt, and against the soft skin of the Doctor's stomach. Holding the material up around the middle, Jim stroked his thumb in little circles around John's nipple, as it hardened to the touch and the cold air. John held his breath and involuntarily arched slightly. Jim laved slowly down the Doctor's neck, under his shirt collar, then detached his lips, bent down and took the pert nub into his mouth and sucked hard. Johns head fell back onto the headrest and scrunched his eyes closed at the sensation shooting through his body and sending unwanted throbbing waves of heat to his groin. Dropping his arms either side of him, he clenched his hands into tight fists. 

Taking the nipple between his teeth Jim worried it a little, causing John's left hand to startle and rise up to grasp Jim's hips, digging in his finger tips as he did so. Before releasing it, the Criminal Consultant placed a sloppy open mouthed kiss onto the dusky pink skin, then returned his homage to John's neck and jaw. John relaxed once more, his hand dropping to his side.

Moriarty sat up on the Doctor's thighs and settled his palms on his hips. Jim raked his brown eyes over the body underneath him, at John's stretched neck, artery throbbing under the skin, his chest rising high, as shaky breaths drawn in and released, at the tension in John's arms. Jim licked his lips. 

"Beautiful!" 

John's eyes cracked open and fixed on Jim's. A small tear zigzagged down from the corner of John's eye. Jim's hand shot up dragging a finger across the skin to capture it. Frowning, the Consultant examined his damp finger carefully, then brought it to his mouth and rubbed the moister onto his bottom lip. Suddenly, in a single graceful movement he extricated himself from John and stood. John lifted his face and looked at the dark haired man in confusion. Turning his head away from John, Jim glared out of the window.

"Get out." Jim muttered.

John shifted in his seat, but did not move.

"Get. Out" Jim demanded forcefully.

John raised to his feet quickly, and manuvered himself around the Consultant and away towards the door. As he reached the handle, he grasped the familiar blue scarf that was draped over it. Clutching it between his fingers, he turned to face Moriarty once more, and raised it up and towards the criminal with a question clearly on his lips. 

"Go on. Deal's off." John flinched at this, eyes wide with concern. 

Jim turned away again, speaking softly.

"Go home John. He's waiting for you."

With that, John opened the door, still holding the scarf, and ran.


	2. Chapter 2

“Three days Sherlock! Three days, and you didn’t notice I was gone?” John Shouted.

“I assumed you were staying with some _female_.” Sherlock drawled.

“Then why didn’t you ring me to check? Hmm?” John stood over where Sherlock sat, hands on hips, mouth tight.

“Why all this drama, John? So I don’t always remember where you’ve said you are going. I wasn’t meant to be joining you somewhere was I? No. I distinctly remember something about my being a pretentious git and eternally irritating. Clearly my presence was not required where you were. Your clothes are freshly laundered and pressed. Your shoes have even been shined up nicely. Not to mention the loose button on your cardigan has been sewn on properly. You don’t appear to have slept well, going by the bags under your eyes, and it is quite clear that you have had someone in your lap quit recently going by the creases in your lovingly ironed shirt and trousers. No, on reflection, I doubt you had any urgent need of me wherever you were, and I suspect you were enjoying yourself much to much to really care whether I noticed you were gone or not. Oh, and by the way, I’m not sure I appreciate you borrowing my favourite scarf without asking. If you don’t mind.” Sherlock stood up from lounging in his chair and snatched the scarf from John’s clenched fist.

John stood, silently seething. Sod Sherlock. Sod his crappy deductive skills, and sod Jim for making him a liar.

“Yeah, okay. Bang on Sherlock. Forget I said anything. It’s fine. All fine.” John turned on the spot and marched up to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. 

John lay on his bed, breathing deeply, trying in vain to calm himself. He could still feel him, smell him on his clothes.

Downstairs, John heard the front door bang closed. Feeling weary and ready for sleep John closed his eyes, only to see Jim’s face smiling manically at him.

“Oh for…” John got up from the bed and striped off his clothing, discarding them carelessly in a pile on the floor. 

He stood in front of the mirror and traced the red and purpling marks on his chest and thighs with his fingers. None were particularly large or requiring attention, but they were a reminder of his time with Jim. The bruises were typical of what one might see after a night spent with an enthusiastic lover, not a three day kidnapping by a manic consulting criminal. If Sherlock saw these he would crow over the confirmation of his theory. 

It was maddening. Everything that had transpired had been for nothing. Sherlock was fine. Not a hair harmed or out of place. Why had Jim done it, if not to hurt or rile up Sherlock?

John slipped on sweat pants and a T-shirt, bagged up his discarded clothes and headed out of the flat. He deposited them in the rubbish bins and headed up towards the park at a jogging pace.

After five laps he headed back towards the flat, hoping that Sherlock would still be out and leave him in peace to sleep the afternoon away. Fortunately, he was. Unfortunately, Mycroft was sat, legs crossed in John’s chair. 

“He’s not in and I don’t know when he’ll be back.” John turned to go upstairs, when Mycroft spoke.

“It was you with whom I wished to speak Dr Watson.” He gestured with his umbrella to the chair opposite. 

“I’m tired, Mycroft. And not really in the mood to chat now.” 

“Be that as it may, I wish to discuss your, shall we say, mini-break away.” Mycroft gestured at the chair again. 

John sighed heavily and slumped down into the surprisingly uncomfortable leather lounger.

“I’m not sure I can take any more Holmes theatrics right now, Mycroft. Please get to the point and leave.”

“Not going to offer me tea? No. Oh, very well then. I received this a few hours ago.” Mycroft passed a brown envelope to John. “I was somewhat put out to discover the failure of my operatives, I don’t mind admitting.”

John peered inside and found a large photograph. It was a selfie, of sorts, with him unconscious with Moriarty handling him like a puppet, waving John’s hand.

“I assume you were unharmed?” John nodded slowly. “Did he make any demands?”

“None.” 

“Were you able to gain any intelligence during your stay? Discover any of his plans or motives for taking you?”

John shook his head, pursed his lips.

“Look, I told you, I’m tired okay. I just want to forget about it. The bastard was just playing games as usual. Who knows why he does it, but frankly I don’t care. Are you going to tell Sherlock?”

Mycroft look confused for a millisecond then sighed. 

“He is not aware then? And did not observe. Very well, if that’s what you wish. For now I will hold my tongue. Good afternoon, Dr Watson.”

“Yeah, bye.” 

John slowly made his way to his room, and laid down on the bed, after stripping out of his sweaty clothes. He took the envelope with him and stuffed it in his bedside drawer and promptly fell asleep.


End file.
